“When the heart is supple, it can be “broken open” into a greater capacity to hold our own and the world’s pain: it happens every day. When we hold our suffering in a way that opens us to greater compassion, heartbreak becomes a source of healing, deepening our empathy for others who suffer and extending our ability to reach out to them.” ― Parker J. Palmer

Photo credit: Alisa Prideaux-Mooney

THE EARTH AND SEVEN SEAS

What makes poetry compelling, I often ponder.

Is it young love shining through the trails of paradise

without limits floating in their sheer veils of delight?

What if an arctic circle without life becomes the plot?

Is it the claws of painful life sharp as a razor

cutting through a forest of broken hearts?

Left behind bleeding helplessly like orphans

without the strength to climb the shores of a safe escape.

Nobody is looking back, nobody will know if they drowned.

But what if they’re still alive, barely breathing,

crawling without a voice, desperately reaching for our souls,

evoking emotions we never felt before, tasting blood in our throats.

Would we stop? Would we turn to help?

It might be too much for some to offer their hand;

nobody wants to have a bitter stain on their dress or tie,

nobody wants to be derailed from their luxurious life.

Perhaps we are all too overwhelmed by tragedy and loss,

by hearing about rape and murder of a child,

numb we must write about the subtle beauty of a dolphin’s play

to be able to breathe and survive the toxic rain.

Perhaps we are unable to look into another’s face

for a fear to see dark crossroads of hopelessness

reminding us of our own dreamless road.

Perhaps we ourselves became paralyzed by our sorrow and misery,

when we can’t help but hear the river weep its haunting song,

when we slowly drown with our spirit muted, unable to speak

waiting for the wind to play our broken instruments in the window,

the shadow of our own.

So, perhaps an occasional escape of the mind is a treasure to behold.

Where not all is yet lost, where there’s always hope – we must believe.

I wrote this poem last year during the Syrian refugee crisis throughout Europe. But it’s apparent, today’s times bring similar sadness, fear, and sense of hopelessness. The more fortunate are bombarded by tragic images, the less fortunate must live them, and the ones in power seem to be playing with the fragility of life. I’m not a politically much-versed person, but this is not about politics. This is about humanity and the decency of the human heart. May we all find peace someday.